Heart and Home
by PhantomProducer
Summary: In the middle of the night, Sam reflects on the meaning of home, and where he has found it. Or, more accurately, who he has found it with. Takes place before the end of "In Due Course." A one-shot of the "Of Time" series.


**A/N:** Another story for the _Of Time_ series timeline! However, this time we delve a little into Sam and Kay's portion of that universe. Yeah, a little different from my OTP, but still, I hope you'll enjoy it.  
This takes place before the final chapter of _In Due Course_ , during a night home with the Falcon and his girlfriend.  
Just a reminder: this story is UNBETA'ED. This is mostly due to my personal schedule being a little different from others', and therefore harder to coalesce with someone else's. As such, I do proofread, edit, and restructure my own writing. I try my best, but I am not perfect.

Now that that's all been said, read on!

* * *

June, 2017

The rain beat against the windows, the groan of thunder distant as a brief flash of lightning bounced far away.

Sam Wilson had been awake since the first thunderclaps, the rain reminding him of times outside the little apartment. Old and new memories, of tours and missions woke him, shook his soul, and he could not get back to sleep. Instead, he opted to make some use of his time. Understanding the difference between an indulgence and dependence, he made sure that his use of time was meted out carefully, pointedly filling up a cup from the kitchen cupboard with more ice than whiskey when he went out of the bedroom. Taking the cup and the bottle with him into the living room, he opened up one of the windows, the breeze bringing in the dampness and the contrasting heat and warmth of summer air. Still, it was better than winter, he mused with a shiver; upstate New York was less of a dream then, as opposed to that moment. Sitting on the deep blue couch, he sipped idly at his drink, the lamp in the kitchen backlighting him as he continued to watch the storm roll on. The memories quieted after awhile, replaced by other thoughts that had been niggling at him during the daylight hours.

"Little early in the day for that, huh?" crowed a voice behind him. A small smile bloomed on his lips, but he didn't turn around.

"Depends on your perspective," he retorted playfully, setting his cup on the end table and patting the empty cushion beside him. At once it was filled, his girlfriend Kay yawning and patting at her lengthening hair. The blue strands, warped by the transformation caused by her Inhuman DNA, brushed above her ears, the pixie cut she'd shorn it into disappearing little by little. Her pajamas, which consisted of one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, flapped around her as she sat, her wiry limbs tucking in and her legs resting along the remaining length of the sofa. Dark, nearly black almond-shaped eyes glanced up at him, then to the bottle of Southern Comfort sitting beside his glass.

"Mind sharing, babe?" she asked, flicking a few fingers at it. An eyebrow arched pointedly at him, and he chuckled.

"Not at all," he replied, picking it up. About to hand it to her, he kept it out of reach of her grabbing fingers for a few seconds, quirking a brow of his own. "Just a little."

Kay rolled her eyes at that, taking the bottle and muttering, "Should never have told you about that stupid enzyme deficiency."

Sam shrugged a shoulder at her, unperturbed by her faux disgust.

"Well, it's either that, or not be prepared for a heart attack," he stated mildly. In spite of her Inhuman strength extending even to her immune system, she still was possessed of her previous dispositions. Her half-Korean heritage still dictated a few things about her, including alcohol ingestion. She'd gone overboard several months back, and neither of them were eager to repeat the experience. Kay clicked her tongue, but took a small sip from the bottle. For a long time, they sat in the silence, the falling rain filling the space between them. Comfortable as they were, she knew that Sam wasn't up in the middle of the night for nothing.

Chancing a glance at him, she noted the stoic set of his features, the half-lidded eyes indicative of his thoughts overtaking him.

"What are you thinking about?" she wondered, laying her head on his shoulder. Briefly, he rested his cheek against her hair, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Home," he said, giving voice to the word that had been pounding in his mind all evening. It had been present since his return from a recon mission with Lang and Natasha. It had only been a few days, staking out a warehouse in Helsinki off a tip from Fury's agents (which turned out to be a bust; he could hardly imagine any leftover operatives of HYDRA wanting to go to ground in Sweden, but then again, one could never assume). However, those days were long, taxing, and ultimately held little information for them to actually work with. When Natasha had managed an infiltration, she'd found nothing but orders for the company that owned the building, and the three of them were on the next quinjet out, ready to head back to home base.

To home, his mind had rumbled to his soul, even after he'd set foot on the tarmac and proceeded to his girlfriend's office.

The warmth of it spread through him as he curled his arm around her shoulders, the press of her body solid against him. Kay's brow furrowed, and she quickly set the bottle on the floor.

"Your house in D.C.?" she assumed, and he hummed in his throat. Cocking her head to the left, she inquired, "Your cousin is still renting it, right?"

"Yeah, still," he said, almost detached. Ever since he made the choice to work as an Avenger, his cousin had taken residence in his house. At the time, he had viewed as a stroke fortune for both of them; he needed to leave for work, and his cousin needed a place for himself and his girlfriend before their baby arrived. But that was not the only thing he'd been considering about it. His fingers began to toy with the sleeve of Kay's shirt for a few moments, his tongue find the words shortly thereafter. "I've been thinking of selling it to him."

Her dark eyes widened at him, blinked in surprise.

"But it's your house, Sam," she said softly, laying a palm on his chest. Brushing her thumb back and forth, she murmured, "I know how much it meant to you, means to you."

Sam inclined his head at that, having told her so himself.

"It did mean something to me, way back when. My own place. Mine, that couldn't be taken away from me."

After his second tour overseas, he'd been more than ready to get out. He'd had enough of being at the beck and call of someone else, of engaging in a war he no longer felt he could fight. He wanted to go home, wanted to have a home to go to. Once his discharge was processed and he was back on American soil, it was difficult to find what he longed for. He touched on it, when spent his first few months back at his mother's house, but it did not come to him as he'd hoped. Sam Wilson had to do more than return to his country. He had to return to himself. First he received counseling, and then became a counselor himself, training and classes taking up his time as he searched for what made him happy.

And when the time came to do so, when an opening down in D.C. was presented to him, he thought he'd found his chance, then.

Still, he tempered his sentimentality with levity. "Had to cut the apron strings, not be in my ma's hair."

Kay snorted, smirking at him. "Please. Your mom would definitely have kicked you out before it got to that point."

Sam snickered. "True. But yeah, it was nice to own something of my own, something permanent. Something that couldn't be shot out of the sky."

Getting the house in D.C., after finishing his tours, after losing his wingman and one of his best friends, had been something of a victory for him, for his soul. It was proof that he could have something, that he could keep it safe and to himself. Even after the grueling months of searching and paperwork and dealing with the loan from the V.A., it had been worth it. It was a marker after the dark times, It proved that his life could turn around, that he could make what he could of it and find himself again.

"I wanted a home, needed it," he said, the old sense of longing rising then. He bit his lip for a moment, taking up his cup again and sipping down the drink, his whiskey neat becoming more of a whiskey waterlogged. Sensing something in his silence, Kay maintained her searching expression.

"But?"

Setting the cup down, Sam inclined his head.

"But, home isn't just a place, a roof over your head and a floor under your feet. It's, it's much more than that," he confessed softly, the whirling thoughts of his mind compacting upon the truth he'd slowly been realizing over the last couple of years. His arm around her tightened, and he breathed, "It's the warmth, and the heart, and the people inside it. Inside yourself that makes it that way. The house is just a house, has been for way too long."

Kay looked away then, to the opened window. The rain outside had slowed significantly, the thrumming reverberations on the roof a gentle tapping.

"Still looking for a home, then," she muttered, understanding lacing her words. As a SHIELD agent, as an Inhuman struggling to find her place in the world, she had lost her sense of home some time ago. The nature of her job had, in the past, pushed the idea out of her life. Now, however, she'd begun to feel as though it were coming back to her, bit by bit.

Deep down, she suspected that her reasons were similar to Sam's, but she held her tongue. The bubble of hope in her gut was too stubborn to suppress, though.

The fingers resting on Sam's chest were caught, his hand closing around hers and bringing her out of her thoughts. Tipping her chin up, she met his dark brown gaze, saw the blossoming of something in his irises, and she inhaled deeply.

"No, I found it," he professed, a knowing smile teasing at his lips as he took in the sight of her. The sleep-spiked fan of her blue hair, the frankness of her gaze, the length of her body next to his made sparks snap through his veins. It had been that way since they'd first met, when her boldness and brashness wormed their way into his heart, followed by her inner strength and courage. Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb over her skin, stating plainly, "I want to sell the house, and have my home."

Lowering his head then, he found himself being pushed back. Obeying, he spotted the watery glitter in her eyes, illuminated by the low light spilling from the kitchen over her. Huffing out a gasping chuckle, she let her palms slide from his chest to cup around the back of his head, she tried to school her expression into one of sternness.

"Sam...you better be saying what I think you're saying, or you're going to find yourself with one very pissed-off girlfriend in a few seconds," she told him, one hand going back down and poking him on the pectoral. Grunting, he struggled to hold back on a smile. Inside, he was trembling, trembling with fear, and with hope.

"Move in with me?" he entreated her, eyes wavering as he waited for her answer. The stony facade she adopted broke into a full grin, and she cupped the back of his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. It was strong, deep, their hearts hammering in their chests as they met over and over again. The dance of lips, the glances of their mouths, slowed after a few seconds, and she bumped the tip of his nose with her own.

"...Yes," she stated aloud when they'd pulled apart, a giggle coursing up her throat as Sam laughed, too. Arm wound around her then, scooping her into his embrace. She nuzzled against his neck as he buried his nose in her hair, scents of each other breathed deeply. Within a few minutes, Sam loosened his hold on her, allowing Kay to regain a little space and traction. Turning her head, she glanced around at her living room. Tutting under her breath, she grumbled, "We might need something a little bigger."

Sam nodded, knowing that was true. Her apartment, a good find when she'd moved up to the base as well, was not ideal for more than one person to reside in. They couldn't grow there, and Sam definitely wanted to be able to do so.

"We'll take a look in the morning."

"It is morning, technically," she riposted impishly, gesturing to the clock on the DVD player. The time, 4:17, shone back at them in bright green, but Sam canted his head in denial.

"Sun's not out, so nope," he contradicted her. "Not morning in my book."

Kay let out a long-suffering sigh, folding her arms over her chest. "Fine."

Tilting his head, he ran his hand up from the small of her back, bringing it around to tease at the stretched collar of her shirt. Traipsing between skin and cotton, he relished the airy breaths the found their way out when he dared to dip lower.

"We'll find a way to pass the time until then, I'm sure," he murmured, scooting closer again.

"Yeah," she said, her eyelids drooping and her tone sultry and seductive in that moment. Leaning forward to steal a kiss from her, he was stopped by the press of her finger to his lips. Opening his eyes, he blinked at the mischievous set of her gaze. "We could make a blanket fort."

Sam dropped his head then, rubbing a finger along his temple as she laughed. "You're such a dork."

Her chuckling petering off, his girlfriend nudged his side, waiting until he looked up again to give him a peck on the cheek.

"You would know," she murmured, threading their fingers together and standing up. Following her lead, Sam stopped only to scoop up the liquor bottle and move it onto the end table. The kitchen light was snapped off, the darkness in the apartment swathing them as they padded back to the bedroom.

The blanket fort was a project for another day, as another activity took up their time under the sheets.

He'd call his cousin in the morning, he reminded himself as he held Kay close, savoring the satiny warmth of her skin against his as he held her. Being pulled into sleep, he kept affirming his plans in his head over and over, the thought of turning over the house not bothering him. After all, it wasn't home.

He had his home, right beside him, after all those years.

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 **A/N 2:** Well...what do you think? I don't often write for Sam, but the idea for this just sort of struck me. I kept recalling his word in TWS, about searching for what made him happy after returning from his last tour. Part of me felt that, in the _Of Time_ universe, a portion of that would include a home for himself. But homes often aren't houses, and it had taken him some time to find his in Kay.

I've got another _Of Time_ one-shot on the back burner, but we'll see when I get around to it. Two main stories take up a lot of brain space, haha.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text.

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all in the next story!


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